


Desolation

by Govi



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Far North crossover angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-23
Updated: 2010-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-06 14:29:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Govi/pseuds/Govi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened before Loki met Saïva and Anja</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desolation

Loki had been only sixteen when the soldiers came to his village, killed the old and very young and took the rest with them in boats. He could still picture himself; still remember every single moment of that horrible day that had changed his life for good.

His hands tied together with rough rope that cut into his flesh, he had sat in the bottom of the boat, miserable and broken by grief, because he never managed to save his mother and sister. They had held him down while they dragged his younger sister outside. His mother had tried to stop them, but a single blow to the head with a gun made her fall down and Loki knew she was dead.

He had tried to struggle, but it was no use and he couldn’t even hold his hands to his ears when his sister cried out for help. He never saw her again and could only hope she was still alive in one of their brothels. Maybe she had been lucky and one of the officers had taken her for himself.

His father had been away, hunting, and was not due home for another week. Loki would have been with him, but he’d had a bad fall on the ice two days earlier and he could not walk without limping. Ever since he was seven his father had taken him on the hunting trips, patiently teaching him to be a hunter too. Their village community wasn’t very large and was very close; they shared whatever there was to eat and his father was an important man. When watching the soldiers setting the village on fire, Loki knew he would never see his father again either.

He considered jumping out of the boat and running away, knowing very well he wouldn’t get far and would be shot, which was probably preferable to what they had in mind for him and his people. Still, he couldn’t get himself to do it and he turned his head away when they left, so he wouldn’t have to see his village, his life until now, on fire and destroyed.

Their boats had motors, something Loki had heard about but never really seen before and even though it made travelling faster, it was still a harsh two day journey. It was bitter cold and he and the other people on his boat had to huddle close to keep from freezing. They were given some water and a piece of bread each and that was it.

The camp they brought them to was fairly large and heavily guarded. Loki and some other boys, more or less his age, were herded into a small group together. He looked behind him, hoping to see his sister, but was poked in the back with a gun and struggled through a thick layer of snow to a small barracks.

The barracks wasn’t empty; a group of boys roughly his age jumped to their feet or from their beds, when the door was unlocked and pushed open. Loki and his friends were pushed inside like reindeer and then the doors locked behind them.

Loki was filled with a cold rage, that had kept him going for the last few days and he looked at the occupants of the barracks defiantly, not sure whether they were friends or enemies. He scowled when one of them stepped closer and tried to touch the shawl his mother had made him. Immediately he felt himself surrounded by a group and he clenched his fists, preparing to fight, when a slender boy stepped into the circle and raised his hands.

“Hey, have you all forgotten what’s it like arriving here? Give him a chance!”

Slowly the circle fell apart, but Loki’s fists were still clenched as he looked at the newcomer who stretched out his hand slowly.

“I am Viggo, what’s your name?”

He seemed friendly and Loki stretched out a tentative hand in reply, as if he was approaching a growling dog.

“I am Loki.”

“There’s an empty bed next to me. You can sleep there if you want,” and Loki’s eyes followed the boy’s pointing finger to a small cot with two thin folded blankets on it. He nodded, suddenly exhausted and made his way to the bed. At least it was better here than outside and for now the bed and blankets were all he could wish for.

As soon as he kicked off his boots and pulled the blankets over him he was asleep and dead to the world.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

  
Viggo had helped him through those first awful days, had told him what to do and how to survive. At first Loki didn’t want to survive, at least, that’s what he thought, but he was young and there was always the hope he could one day take his revenge. So he worked in the enemy’s factory, learning to assemble motor parts. He never told them about his hunting skills, knowing all to well they would never allow him to handle a gun.

At night Viggo and he talked, Viggo who had been here only about a month and already knew how to stay out of trouble. Slowly Loki started to trust Viggo and even more slowly, they became friends. They were young, just boys and inevitably they managed to forget their miserable circumstances and have fun. They were completely different, yet they understood each other so well. Viggo became Loki’s lifeline and he could only hope he meant the same to Viggo.

It was a hard life - meagre food rations, but they shared what they were able to get. There was always the cold, but the human body can take a lot and somehow they managed to live through it, where others did not. Loki, having long forgotten about days and months, was surprised to find out Viggo had kept note of the date and even more surprised when he found out he had been a captive for more than a year now.

That night he had a dream, in which he was back in his village, drinking in the faces of his mother and sister. There was some festivity going on and they were dancing, wearing their fancy dresses, holding the skirts above their knees. He woke up in the middle of it, mind drawn back inside his body and a terrible grief came over him. He cried out in pain and guilt, knowing he would live on without them; forget what they looked like eventually.

Trying to muffle his sounds he turned around, burying his face into his makeshift pillow of clothes, when he felt the bed dip under an extra weight and a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Viggo whispered. Loki had no words, just shook his head and then the blankets were lifted and Viggo slid under them, wrapping his arms around Loki and holding him. Slowly the images of the dream had faded and Loki relaxed, finding comfort in his friend’s strong grip.

The bed was small, forcing them to face each other, their bodies aligned. Inevitably their bodies reacted and even though Loki could feel himself blush he didn’t pull away when he felt Viggo’s erection pressing against his leg.

They were carefully kept apart from women even at work and they had learned to deal with the demands of their bodies by their own hand. Of course they were aware of things happening between some of the other boys at night, but they didn’t go there themselves. Yet.

Tentatively he pressed a bit closer and he gasped when Viggo pulled him in even closer until their bodies rubbed against each other. Viggo’s hand came up to touch Loki’s face and then it slid down slowly until it came to rest on his lower belly. Unable to hold back Loki pushed up into that hand and made a strangled sound when it finally worked itself underneath his clothes and closed around his cock. It felt so much better than his own hand and he moved feverishly under the firm grip until he came, his face buried into Viggo’s neck to stifle the desperate sounds he made.

They didn’t sleep much that night and those following, as there was so much new ground to discover. It seemed just a small step a few nights later, for Loki to lie down on his belly, allowing Viggo to take him. After that they were even more inseparable.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

  
Roughly the same age, they moved to another barracks as they grew older. Both reasonably strong despite the sparse food, muscular because of the hard work, they managed to stay together. In all these years Loki never gave up the idea of running away. Of course he had nothing to return to, but he and Viggo should at least try it. He was sure they could have a chance for freedom together. They talked about it in the stolen hours of the night, planning to steal one of the boats or a sled and get as far away as possible.

Soon enough they had to give up the idea of stealing a boat as they were heavily guarded, but Viggo managed to steal a sled and hide it under piles of snow behind the barrack. They began to save little bits of food and useful things to take with them on their flight, like some extra clothes, matches and even an ice pick. Then one day Loki took two pairs of snow shoes from the factory and they knew they were ready to go within days.

Loki woke up when the door to his barracks flew open and hit the wall with a thunderous sound. He struggled to get out of bed and stand next to it as a Russian officer, followed by three soldiers stepped in and walked through the barracks, scrutinizing each of the men. He turned back to the soldiers and pointed at some of the men and they were ordered to step forward, Viggo being one of them. The officer spoke and Loki fell into despair, when he realized they were moving Viggo to another camp, another factory hundreds of miles away, and the other side of the world as far as they were concerned.

The rage, that had never really died, but had slept inside him awoke and he threw himself in front of Viggo, willing to fight everyone that would dare to take him away, and it took all three soldiers to take him down. They beat him until he was unconscious.

He had been unable to work for two days and he had lain on his cot like a dead man, hoping he would die indeed. On the night of that last day he allowed himself to think about Viggo for the first time and tried to imagine what he would do? Would he try to run and shouldn’t he – Loki – try to run also? What did he have to lose?

He washed his face, wincing when the cold water bit into still painful bruises, but his determination grew. He gathered his belongings and did the same with the few simple things Viggo had left behind and hid it all under his thin blankets.

That night when Igor, the invariably drunken guard, came round for his last inspection, Loki was waiting for him. The ice pick struck the Russian’s skull and he was dead before he hit the ground.

The sled was still where they had hidden it and Loki packed his belongings on it, put on his snow shoes, wrapped his scarf around his head and started walking without looking back, not knowing and not caring where.


End file.
